My father, mother & family are from Cape Breton, NS! He, when he was courting my mother, went out and shot a deer and (after field gutting it, etc) brought it to her mother and offered it their family. That told her (my grandma/grandpa had already passed on) that my father was capable of providing food for my mother. This was 1940.

By the time I was 6 y.o. my father took me out into those very same Canadian woods and taught me how to set snares to trap wild hairs (rabbits). And how to track and hunt them with a rifle (22)! This wasn't a hobby or simple pastime, it was at times, pure survival (cape Breton was an isolated island back then, and the winters could be VERY severe). It could have meant life or death in the most extreme situation, and believe me when I say things could get very extreme in the Canadian outback of the 1950's! But it also meant supplementing an, at times, Spartan existence ... putting some much needed protein on the dinner table. There is something very satisfying & rewarding, and very ingrained in our psyche, regarding that.

We moved to upstate NY and for my 8th birthday I asked for a rifle. I drew pictures of one a couple times and got up early in the morning and snuck down and put it in my fathers lunch pail before he went to work s a reminder! So, when my birthday rolled around and this long box wrapped in birthday paper was handed to me, you can guess what I thought it was. Well, to my surprise, it was not a rifle, it was a recurve hunting bow and set of hunting arrows. I was shocked. I couldn't figure out what went wrong ... was I that bad of an artist?

Well, I fell in love with that bow (and i never questioned my father bout why he got it, but I suspect he figured i was little to young to be out in the woods, etc. with my own rifle). I also developed a keen interest on the Native American tribes and culture. Spent countless hours in the library[s] (we moved a lot) studying about their ways. I also learned a lot about their respect for all life. My father also had that respect, and passed it on to me.

I recall coming home one day with my newly initiated butterfly collection. I had this beautiful Monarch butterfly that I had caught (when i was 13), put in a bottle with mothballs to kill it, and then pinned to cardboard and proudly showed it to him. I will never forget the sadness and sincerity that afternoon when he said to me, "Oh the poor thing, it just wanted to live to!"

I learned a valuable lesson that day, that there is a time to kill, and a time to let live. He (and the books on Indian culture) had taught me that early on but it was slipping away secondary to the changing world around me (we had moved to California, lol). My father was no wimp. In fact, he had gone over to our next door neighbors house that very summer (had never been in that house) and in front of this mans 10-12 kids and wife, took off his belt and wiped his ass and then drug him outside and threw him in our car and took him to the police station and had him arrested for child abuse.

These kids were being tortured every day. They lived right next to us (across the alley) and every evening we could hear one of them crying, etc! They had a lot of kids and we had just figured one or two were being punished for being bad or whatever. One day this kid about my age, invited me into the house. It was very unusual for him to do that because they were very aloof, very guarded and stuck to themselves. He told me this horrific story how his father would come home every evening and randomly pick one child and then literally torture the hell out of them well into the night. I saw the fear in their eyes (the were literally shaking and weeping) and the hideous scowl on their fathers face when he walked past me as I was going down the stairs and out of the house and he was going up to their rooms to pick his victim of the day.

Well, that is besides the point. What I am saying, the point i am attempting to make, is that things have gotten somewhat out of hand in America over the last half century (since I was a kid). I use to go out and hunt jackrabbits with that bow with broadpoints/arrow tips (the blade type for hunting big game) and dreamed about bringing home a big buck some day instead of a measly jackrabbit.

BUT, i also new that if I had killed those hairs/rabbits when one had a litter of babies, there would be a bunch of little babies waiting an awful long time for their mother to return ... suffering a cruel and prolonged death. And I had stood face to face with a large cottontail which i had wounded but was not yet dead. It turned and stood up on its haunches and looked me directly in my eyes and let out a long and desperate wail. It was begging me for its life (it to just wanted to live). If you have never heard that from an animal, and are a hunter, I hope you soon will. It will certainly give anyone who has little or no concern for their preys desire to exist something to seriously consider before you take it home and hang it on your wall.

Well, kinda of a rant/ramble ... hope that i made my point!

PEACE!!

Edit: Another thing. How are you gonna feel when one of these people you just got into a heated argument with the night before ends up dead, and it could have been somehow directly related to some you said. Perhaps they were distracted by it while driving home (preoccupied by it) and drove off the road or hit some kid!

Try showing each other a little respect. We are each only on this planet for a VERY short time. Today could be your (or the person your hating on) last day here on earth. How would you like YOUR last day here on earth to be like?

Dood, I am pretty certain I have killed WAY more rabbits than you, bro! How many rabbits have ya eatin? I am positive i got ya beat in that dept also. Rabbit is taste a lot like chickens dark meat, but a lot tastier, imo. And the same goes for deer/venison (prollie shot/eatin more).

Matter of fact, I loved hunting, it was practically a way of life. And if I was hungry and didn't live directly across the street from Albertson's and and a half dozen fast food places, i would do it in a heartbeat. It just seems as though it has lost much of its allure (for me anyway) living in these times in the middle of a big city. These doods here on ST whining about it (guns & hunting) would be the first ones to take it up, or beg you to go out and kill something for them if they had been born 50-100 years ago, or even now and lived off the beatin' track.

In my opinion, wildlife and animals in general have more than one purpose though. And I have come to respect that. That is all I was saying.

And as far as being an "asswipe" I sure in hell hope you weren't referring to me. Cuz, I have little self control at times, and I would hate to have you kick my F'n ass all over Jtree or wherever, should we run into eachother sometime and I was fool enough (believe me i am) to come up to you and remind you of it and challenge you to a fight.

Because where I come from, them's are fighting words. And I have gotten my ass kicked so many times over "fightin' words" that getting it kicked one more time isn't gonna make a whole lotta difference! lol

BTW, several of my uncles in canookland were hunting guides, bitd!(fisherman also/lobster, haddock, cod & halibut). Like I said, it was a way of life (a damn good way, imo)!!!

Gosh, I started a thread that I tried deleting, but it still lives. Considering most of my threads die slow death down the Supertopo pages, I think that this one has legs. There is a lesson to be learned. Start a thread, then nuke it after a couple of posts and the thread lives on.

Boy, Ron and others, you taught me a valuable thread lesson. My hat is off to you people.

Ron A, ya I know ya only hunt jacks during winter. WInters are long in Cape Briton. The one that i confronted that stood up on its haunches was a big ol sucker (very tasty) that i bagged in Utah when I was about 14 (with a 22/not a bow). Venison was a staple in CB, ate it several times a week at least, & a lot of venison jerky. So, no telling how many. I was pretty sure ya had me beat in the hunting dept in larger game.

Ron O, (hard to keep you two Ron's seperated) I wasn't kissing anyone's ass, maybe attempting two walk a fine line between two camps, but no compromising my stance or whatever. Surely no asswiping, but I'll have to go back and look at what I wrote (suppose its not beyond me, lol) since I typed it last night and had just finished watching my favorite movie, "Bambi", for the 117th time (gets me every time, lo)! ...just kidding!

BTW, haven't you figured out by now that Weege is an F'n troll? I really like and admire the guy in many respects, but he musta been born under a f'n bridge. Just sayin'!

edit: "admire/respect" he's a family man, and loves his chidren & his wife. Hardworking/built his own house in the woods, pursued and got a degree and a career. Rope solos sh#t, etc., likes dogs, don't take sh#t from no one. and prollie many other things, but i don't wanna be accused of being an asswipe & get myself into another fight over "fightin words" cuz I'm really a big chickin sh#t except fer online !! ;)

Oh ya, one more thing i respect him for, he's uglier than sh#t and never whines about it!!

EDIT: why don't all you suckers try and show a little respect to eachother every once in awhile???

Ron, rabbit, we used to raise them. But the raccoons would rip down the 9mm gauge fencing on the hutches, no problem and take the rabbit they wanted.

We had several chicken coops. The largest was about 15'x15'. When we would hear a noise the dogs and I would run up the hill. Try getting a skunk out of a coop, with a broom handle. You hold your breath and pray for the best.

Eggs are a missing = skunk. Chicken is a missing = raccoon.

The whole coop slaughtered, with out a chicken taken away = domesticated dogs.

And I have seen chickens swallow down mice. Chickens are vicious, nice little rabbits can be vicious, I worked on a ranch, only turkeys are stupider than sheep.

Goats are cool though. Ask Chaz.

EDIT

We had one goat, Lucifer, a big sucker, at least four feet at the shoulders. He had big horns, well over 15". We would 'wrestle' with him. He knew all the tricks, he'd drop his shoulder, and you thought you'd won, but then bang... up his head went and he won the contest. Talk about arm wrestling, Lucifer knew it all.

He went to pasture on a friend's ranch, Levi, outside of Marysville, in the Sierra foothills. Levi had a pony and Lucifer and the pony hit it off like best of friends. It was a great sight to see, a pony and a goat becoming instant best friends.

Hello hello I just got Siri to know I can just talk into my stupid f*#king iPhone and all my letters look exactly like the f*#king crap that rhyme posts all the time complete utter f*#king nonsense in gyrus in this takes me about five seconds 86 seconds to before out some screen of crap and then throw up on Internet Neverland woo hoo sat

Where I grew up there were NO grocery stores or markets, or places to buy food, PERIOD! We, everyone on our part of the Island, were self suficient, or you starved to death, plain and simple. Subsistance fisherman, hunters and farmers. Most did all three. Some specialized in farming and would trade/barter for fish, etc!

If any of you gun/hunter haters were living there, born there when I was, you would have been doing the exact same thing, even Werner Braun!

Everyone owned guns, had respect for firearms, and it had nothing to do with the size of there penis!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grow the fuking up!!

Ron - "Took off his belt and 'wiped'...! OH! I missed that (my eyes were prollie full of tears and sh#t since i just got done watching BAMBI, lol). I meant whipped (or however it is spelt)!!!!

He went to pasture on a friend's ranch, Levi, outside of Marysville, in the Sierra foothills. Levi had a pony and Lucifer and the pony hit it off like best of friends. It was a great sight to see, a pony and a goat becoming instant best friends, frolicking, not a care in the world. Mates, so to speak.

EDIT
Yes, but is it is a bump with a meaning. If we could all get along, despite our political allegiances... if a goat and a pony can get along, why can't we?

And although Lucifer knew we loved him he was a big goat he needed more room. Going to Levi's ranch and meeting up with a pony who needed companionship, it was great to see them frolic together. A goat and a horse/pony... instant friends, sort of like meeting someone in C4 and the climbing with them.

EDIT

And it was a sight to see, believe me, as goat and a pony, never knew each other, but instant buddies, running in the fields, frolicking, my heart wept and yet, Lucifer was having a better life.

Let me see if I got it. Al Capone, sometimes at a loss for words, shoved a dildo in Time's vagina, which turned into a black hole which sucked up a bunch of whining rabbits who armed themselves with 30-30's & shotguns and went out looking for Popeye, some crack addicts, and Malcom X. A black panther appeared to protect Malcom ...